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The fluttering and chattering fails to abate. As Andrew moves towards the rows of books, perhaps he can see why:

One of the near aisles is filled with a swirling cloud of tiny winged things, gnashing their teeth and chittering at high volume; glints of metal shine wickedly in their tiny claws. The cloud's attention seems to be directed primarily at a transparent sphere, glowing with amber-tinted light.

Inside that sphere is an unhappy-looking Matt Jamison, whose expression goes from disgruntled to downright panicked upon catching sight of Andrew.

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Andrew tries a different tack, snapping the jacket at the creature like a whip. He misses twice, but the third attempt catches the creature in mid-dive, knocking it across and into the shield's invisible wall.

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At least the thing's not currently a) moving or b) stabbing his jeans with its ... whatever creepy weapon that even is.

"Thanks," Matt says, a little wide-eyed. "Um, I'll have to think about getting it out of here; the spell I used leans more on the physical-barrier side than the repelling-negative-influence side, but I might be able to swing it."

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He starts to dig around in the smallish satchel he's carrying over one shoulder, arm twisting awkwardly to get at it. He's going to need a few herbs at least to get this shield powered so it'll boot their little friend.

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The touch does not, Matt is happy to say, result in any awkward magical overshare (not that he thought it would or he'd have warned him). But it does feel nice-- bright, like holding hands under warm sunshine. Matt murmurs something under his breath: Sanskrit, by the sound of it.

And that same feeling of bright sun seems to fill the entire sphere.

The little creature pinned by the sleeve of Andrew's jacket starts to pull away, though it's still unconscious-- as if it's drifting on some tide taking it towards the edge of the shield.